


"I Know"

by cakeisnotpie



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, M/M, Snark, Unrequited Love, chocolatino, lots of smartass comments, steve rogers knows, vanilla ice - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 01:15:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6931978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeisnotpie/pseuds/cakeisnotpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the people in Steve Roger's new life, Sam Wilson is the one who doesn't seem the least bit phased by the return of Bucky Barnes. But Bucky soon discovers the two have something in common -- an appreciation of Steve Roger's ass -- and maybe more than that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"I Know"

**Author's Note:**

> This all started with that one little scene in the car in CACW. From there it grew into a series of vignettes in the life of Bucky Barnes. The story is MCU compliant but I got to play some with the what happened after the movie end part. Enjoy!

“Oh, no. Just no. I’m not taking the back.” Sam stuck out his chin and held his ground even when Buck turned his steeliest gaze on the annoying man. “Don’t give me the death stare. You owe me; you ripped my wings off. So haul your ass in the back seat, Frosty.” 

 

Steve only shrugged, a small smile playing on his face. Fine, if that was the way this was going to go. Popping up the handle, he collapsed the front seat and crawled into a space smaller than his shoulder width. The vinyl seat creaked under his weight, rusty springs complaining as he wedged his body into the laughable back seat. Sam crawled in the front seat and ratcheted it until there was maybe an inch for Bucky’s legs. Grumbling, Bucky pushed his knees into the back, pressing forward so he wasn’t folded completely in half. 

 

“Sharon’s going to meet us in fifteen,” Steve said, getting in on the driver’s side and starting the lawnmower engine. It turned over on the fourth try, vibrating the thin metal frame; didn’t really matter, the old Beetle ran and that was what they needed, a car to get them where they had to go. 

 

The whole way there, Sam kept shifting, forcing Bucky to move or be squished further. Oblivious to the drama, Steve kept talking about the plan for getting to Siberia and avoiding entanglements. Bucky could tell him they weren’t going to make it without a fight, not with the whole world gunning for him. There was no such thing as low profile when Captain America thought a pair of sunglasses and a ball cap could hide his chiseled jaw and straining biceps. 

 

“There she is.” Steve pulled to a stop, turned the key and let the engine rattle to a stop a few seconds later. “Be right back.” 

 

Even with the windows open, the car grew hot quickly. “Can you move your seat up?” 

 

“No.” Sam glanced in the rearview mirror, the beginnings of a smile curling the edges of his lips. 

 

Scooting over, Bucky kept his mouth shut, not giving in to the urge to smack the guy in the back of the head. Of all of Steve’s new troop, Sam seemed the least impressed by Bucky. Of course, the  guy wasn’t bothered by a royal dude in a cat suit, why would a fucked up brain dead assassin be an issue?  

 

“Oh.” Sam’s eyes widened as Steve leaned over to kiss Sharon. The edges of his lips turned down for a split second then curved up as Steve looked their way. Bucky knew that tell, understood exactly what Wilson was trying to hide. Only someone who’d suffered from Steve Rogers syndrome could see the unrequited pining for what it was. 

 

“Smooth,” Bucky said when Steve slid behind the wheel. “Not awkward at all.” 

 

“What? Was it … too much?” Steve turned to look at him, all wide eyed and worried. 

 

“Nah, man, you went for it. That’s good.” Sam glared at Bucky. “Dude’s just jealous; ignore him.” 

 

“You’re confusing me with yourself,” Buck shot back. 

 

“Whatever,” Sam said with a shrug, shifting the seat back another notch.

 

* * *

 

 

“Wha …” 

 

The ceiling came into focus -- white panels in a pattern -- and Bucky panicked. A blank stretched behind him, a loss of memory, and he didn’t know where he was or what he’d done. 

 

“Dude. Barnes. You’re in Wakanda. They had to wake you up; your blood pressure was high and they want to check your vitals, make sure you’re okay.” 

 

He turned his head and squinted his eyes, focusing on the face behind the voice. Dark skin, short black hair, brown eyes, a slight gap between his teeth … Bucky’s brain supplied bits of data in fits and starts, sluggish and slow. Falcon. Wilson. Sam. Steve’s friend. Wings. Pain in the ass. 

 

“How … how long?” 

 

He pushed up from the cryo tube; Sam’s arm went around him and helped him to the exam table. 

 

“Ten weeks, give or take.”

 

People in white coats approached, easy and gentle, with no fast movements. He nodded and they began their work, cuffing his arm and listening to his heart. 

 

“Where’s Steve?”

 

Not that Bucky blamed him if he’d run; Bucky was mess, a one armed fucked-up brain of a man who caused Steve to lose everything. But Steve wasn’t that kind of guy; he’d never abandon Bucky; he’d proved that over and over again.

 

“Man loves you, dude.” Sam snorted, an abort laugh with an edge of something else. “He called in a favor; had to beg but he found some new technology that will help negate your programming.” 

 

Of course he had. Probably had to go crawling back to …

 

“Stark? Fuck. He shouldn’t have done that.” 

 

Going to Stark meant dealing with those stupid accords and Stark’s emotional breakdown. Bucky quashed that memory as ruthlessly as he’d strangled Stark’s mother. He deserved the hatred and couldn’t blame Howard’s kid. Didn’t mean Tony wasn’t an ass about it. 

 

“Agreed.Steve’s compass always points to right if you’re involved.”  Sam grimaced. “But the accords are on the backburner since the fish oil creating inhumans thing came out. People want to know the Avengers are there to help keep the bad ones under control.” 

 

“Sergeant Barnes, we’d like to get a baseline brain scan, if we may? The B.A.R.F. system needs as much data as we can gather.” 

 

Bucky shrugged; what was left of his mechanical arm grated on his bone and he winced. 

 

“Inhumans? Fish oil? I go to sleep for a few weeks and you let the world go to hell?”  He paused. “Wait, weren’t you in prison with the others? Bug guy, red witch, and arrow dude?” 

 

“He came back for us.”  Sam grinned. “Steve never leaves a man behind.”

 

“Yeah, that I know.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Did you eat the plums in the fridge?” 

 

Bucky shoved aside a carton of Almond milk … milk from nuts? WTF? … a jar of olives, a half-empty can of cola, and a clear plastic square filled with lasagna. He sat the last one on the counter. 

 

“Were those yours?” 

 

Sam continued spooning up his cereal; a plate beside him held plum pits and reddish purple spots of juice. 

 

“You’re a pain in the ass, Wilson.” 

 

The kitchen door opened and T’challa entered in his usual black pants and turtleneck which had to cost a fortune but looked simple.  He wandered to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup as he spoke. 

 

“The amendments to the accords are being voted on next week,” he told them both. “With both Stark and Rogers on board, they should pass easily.” 

 

“Nothing like Nemo escaping and someone leaking video of the guards harassing Wanda to speed up the process,” Sam said.  “I, for one, am ready to go home. No offense, but I miss my grandmother’s chicken. You should drop by some Sunday; best mashed potatoes and gravy you’ve ever had.” 

 

“Thank you. I may take you up on that,” T’challa returned with a smile. He nodded to them both, took his cup and left. 

 

“Are you ever going to notice that he’s been flirting with you?” Bucky asked. 

 

“What?” Sam’s eyes widened. “Nah, he’s not. He’s a king and he’s got all those guards, the Dora Milaje.” 

 

Bucky snagged Sam’s juice, draining the glass in one long gulp before he sitting it back down. “Yeah, he just likes talking about your obsession with old R&B music and happened to find that album you’ve been looking for.” 

 

“He said it was just a thing ... “ Sam stopped, spoon halfway to his mouth. “Damn, he is flirting with me.” 

 

“You should go for it. At least someone should be getting some.” Bucky popped the lasagne into the microwave. “Maybe he can buy you your own plums.” 

 

“It’s just fruit, dude,” Sam replied. “Give it a rest.” 

 

“ **MY** plums,” Bucky muttered.

 

* * *

 

 

“Yeah, there’s no way they’re letting me in the country. Not without locking me up.” 

 

Bucky pushed his plate away and stood up, walking to the kitchen window and staring out at the foggy jungle. He’d had just about all he could take of talking and waiting and therapy and doctors and negotiations. 

 

“It’s part of the deal; everyone gets to go home. We have two representatives on the new council  and the Raft is off the table. I promise, Buck, it’s a good deal.” Coming to stand next to him, Steve put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Clint and Scott can see their families, and we’ll be safe at the compound.”

 

“Stark doesn’t want me anywhere near him.” That one Bucky had figured out for himself. “What did you have to promise him, Steve? What’s the cost?’

 

“He needs time; he’s already admitted you were brainwashed, that it was the Soldier, not you. He’ll come around.” Steve’s eyes slid away from Bucky and out to the jungle, a sure tell. Ever one for wishful thinking, that was Steve Rogers. 

 

“Let me guess. You’re my babysitter?”  

 

“Buck, it’s not like that …” 

 

“And what about me?” Wanda asked, sitting on the counter and swinging her feet. “Will I be under house arrest again? Vision my jailer?” 

 

“No,” Steve promised. “You’ll live at the compound just like you did before.”

 

“Even if I don’t want to?” She tilted her head, her hair falling over one side of her face. 

 

“We’ve got room at the farm,” Clint said, smiling at the young woman. “You come home with me.” 

 

“You’d trust me with your kids?” Surprised colored her voice. “What if I can’t control my power?”

 

“You can,” Clint replied without hesitation. “Besides, having been gone this long, Laura and I wouldn’t mind a built in babysitter.” 

 

“I can do that,” Wanda agreed. 

 

“And if I don’t want to?” Buck turned, saw Clint nod in support. “Stay at the compound.” 

 

“We’ll get a place, you and me. Might take a few months, but …” Steve looked around. “Sam, you’ve got room, right? Can we bunk with you for bit?” 

 

“Me? What?” Sam sat straight up, glanced at Bucky then back to Steve. “I mean, sure, mi casa es su casa. But you’re buying groceries; I can’t imagine how much two super metabolisms need to eat.” 

 

“We don’t want to impose …” Steve faded off. 

 

“Nah, dude, it’s fine. Not like I’m going to be getting any action any time soon anyway.” Sam shrugged. 

 

“Afraid Steve will steal your girl?” Clint asked with a laugh. 

 

“He’s Captain America!” Scott said. “Who can compete with that?” 

 

Bucky tucked his head to hide the smile that curled at the edges of his mouth. “Sam’s place will do. You have cable or satellite T.V.? Don’t want to miss the games, man.” 

 

Sam glared at him. “I hate you,” he mumbled. 

 

* * *

 

 

“Did he just …” Sam dodged a laser blast, swooping past Bucky and pivoting on his wing tip.

 

“... jump into the sonic disrupter?” Bucky finished the thought, grabbing hold of the metal hand rails and sliding down an access ladder. “Yeah, he did.” 

 

Ulysses Klaue, sometimes gunrunner, sometimes vibranium smuggler, down one arm thanks to Ultron which was replaced by some sort of laser gun by HYDRA, was framed in the beam of light, the only thing able to cut that precious metal from the earth. After T’challa’s body guards had stopped Klaue’s plan to kill the King, he’d retreated into the mining facility, doing the most damage he could as he went. They’d trapped him in the processing room; that’s when he launched himself right into the sonic cutter. 

 

A shock wave blasted through the space, hitting the ceiling of the underground cavern and reverberating back again. Sam was knocked out of the air, landing on a catwalk; Bucky dropped to the ground, waited until the waves began to abate then kept running to where T’challa was struggling with seven HYDRA fighters. 

 

“Um, guys, I think we should clear the area,” Sam said, gliding down to join Bucky. “I think that thing’s going to …” 

 

A warning alarm went off as the metal struts that held the machine in place began to rattle in their moorings. The light grew brighter, Klaue’s form melted away, and the very air began to pulse, putting pressure on Bucky’s eardrums. 

 

“Get Panther and the others out of here,” Bucky shouted, focusing his attention on the strange ropes of light that were forming. “He’s going to take down the mountain if we don’t stop him.” 

 

“He? Dude, Klaue is dead.” Sam took off, dropping four HYDRA minions in a matter of seconds. The Dora Milaje took care of the rest in a matter of seconds. “But you’re right about the mountain.” 

 

“Set the safety doors,” T’challa told one of his guard. “They’ll contain the blast.” 

 

Bright white strands came together into a vaguely human form; one lashed out, crashing into a ladder. Metal disappeared into a shower of small shiny particles. 

 

“Okay, maybe I’m wrong on the dead part,” Sam admitted. “What the fuck was that?” 

 

“Molecular disruption,” T’challa replied. “Don’t let him touch you.” 

 

Another appendage whipped out; Bucky dodged under it, grabbed one of the struts and yanked it from the ground.  Pulling with all his strength, he tipped the bottom part of the machine over, diverting the beam into the far wall where it bored into the rock.  Klaue screamed, a sound that ripped through Bucky’s head, and began to lose integrity, bits and pieces floating away. With one last effort, Klaue swung, catching Bucky’s brand new prosthetic, lopping off two fingers before he vanished all together. 

 

“What part of ‘it can cut vibranium’ did you not understand?” Sam asked, landed beside him. “Jesus, Barnes.” 

 

Bucky shrugged; he’d rather deal with new fingers than see someone else lose a limb. “Nah, I’m only a supersoldier, not your Lord and Savior. Although, if you want …”

 

“No. Just no,” Sam replied. 

 

* * *

 

 

Sitting in Sam’s front porch swing, Bucky watched Steve and Sharon talking in her car on the warm D.C. night. They laughed, Steve’s arm along the back of the seat, eyes only for each other. 

 

“Kinda creepy, you know,” Sam said from behind the screen of the front door. “Even borders on stalkery.” 

 

“Stevie has a way of finding trouble,” Bucky replied as if that was all he need say. And it was; Sam understood. 

 

The two blonde heads leaned closer then Steve was kissing her, not a tentative buss like the one in Germany, but the kind that led to more than a lip lock later on. Emotion rolled in Bucky’s gut, regret mixed with pride and a dash of sadness. Stark’s device might have helped him integrate his memories and deal with the worst of what he’d seen, but it did nothing for a decades long stupid longing that was never going to go anywhere. 

 

“Was it always like this? Did Steve ever figure it out?” Sam asked quietly, the same look on his face that Bucky imagined was on his. 

 

“He knows, about me liking guys that way, but he’s never made a big deal of it.” Thing was, Bucky knew Steve loved him; hell, the man had almost died for him, parachuted into enemy territory, nearly killed Stark for him. And that was really more than enough. 

 

“Captain America has no clue how appealing he is to guys, eh?” Sam chuckled. “Now me, on the other, I know there are lots of people who want a sip of this fine chocolatino.  Got a King who respects this tight ass.” 

 

Bucky couldn’t stop the chuckle that bubbled up; he grinned at Sam, a real smile not one of the practiced types he’d been using too much lately. “And yet your ass remains untapped by said King.  Almost makes me think you aren’t interested in petting the kitty.” 

 

“Oh, I bet T’challa has a fine set of claws,” Sam shot back. “Maybe I want to be free from the cage for a while, soar a little bit.  Much as I like a fine dark roast, I like blonde blends and chais too. Even a little vanilla ice now and then.” 

 

“You talking about coffee this late at night?” Steve asked, walking up the path. Twin headlight beams flashed across the porch as Sharon backed out and pulled away. “Doesn’t the caffeine keep you awake?”

 

“You let Sharon go home alone?” Bucky didn’t bother to answer the question. “I’m disappointed in you, Punk. Don’t you remember anything I taught you?” 

 

“She’s flying to Europe early in the morning,” Steve explained. “There’s chatter of a possible terrorist attack to track down.” 

 

“Well, she’s a good person to have on the job,” Sam said, opening the screen door. “There’s fried chicken in the kitchen and half-a-dozen biscuits if you’re hungry.”

 

“Hey, you told me the chicken was all gone,” Bucky protested, standing and following them inside.

 

“Grandma sent them just for Steve; he’s her favorite.” Sam gave him a smug smile. “I promised to keep them for him.” 

 

“It’s okay, I’ll share,” Steve told him. 

 

“Not the point, Stevie. Bird boy over here hoarding food, that’s the point.” 

 

* * *

 

 

“Pink butterfly.” 

 

Lila held a hand over Bucky’s shoulder and he carefully picked out the requested clip. 

 

“That one’s very straight,” Sam said. 

 

“Thank you.” The little girl popped the clip on and started on another section of Bucky’s hair. Sitting on the front stairs, Bucky leaned back and let Lila work her magic as she stood on the porch behind him. “Isabella says she’s the best hair braider, but she’s not.” 

 

“Well, those are mighty fine braids and I have a sister who’s a hair stylist, so I know what I’m talking about.” Taking a sip of his beer, Sam pushed with his toe and kept the swing moving. 

 

People bustled all around the farmhouse  in the growing dusk of the evening.  Clint was manning the supersized grill, turning burgers and slipping hot dogs in buns. His wife had recruited Steve and Natasha to carry food to the long tables set up under a sprawling oak tree. Wanda was teaching Vision how to play catch with the dog while Scott’s daughter and the oldest Barton boy were splashing in the creek, shoes and socks abandoned on the bank. This, Bucky thought, this was what he and Steve had fought for, what they were still trying to protect. Family. Farm. Friends. Food. A sense of community. 

 

The screen door opened, and James Rhodes came out, a beer in one hand and a chip and dip platter in the other. His mechanical braces glowed with the faintest of blue light, powered by tiny chips no bigger than Bucky’s fingernails, running just below the surface of his dark skin. 

 

“Laura wants me to make sure you’re getting enough to eat.”  He sat the platter down on a small table, cocked his head and surveyed Lila’s work. “I like it. Suits him.” 

 

Lila fingers kept moving and she hummed as she worked.  Scooting over, Sam made room for Rhodey on the swing. 

 

“Did Tony get the static issue worked out?” Sam asked. Heaven’s knew, Sam had apologized enough for dodging the blast that broke Rhodey’s spine, but he still carried the guilt. 

 

“Almost. If I rub my feet on carpet, I can make paperclips fly across the room. Never know when that could be useful.”  

 

Bucky tuned out their conversation which, as always, veered into military topics. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Pepper Potts pouring a glass of tea, Stark beside her, his back turned towards the porch.  When he arrived, Stark nodded once, said “Barnes” and that had been the only word that passed between them. The simple fact they were in the same location, Steve had said, was progress. Bucky wasn’t so sure that was true, but everyone acted that way, so he let it go. Mostly, he stayed away from the others, spending most of his time with Cooper and Lila and Cassie; he’d rocked Nate to sleep for his afternoon nap, staying in the nursery until the little boy was breathing evenly in his crib. 

 

“Oh, Lila, there you are.” Laura Barton paused on the front path.  “Time to go clean up; be sure and wash your feet off before you go upstairs.”

 

“Almost finished, Momma. Just this one left.”  Her hand appeared again. “Yellow duck.” 

 

The final clip in place, Bucky handed the unused ones over and smiled into the girl's dark brown eyes. “Thank you, Lila. I appreciate it.” 

 

“You’re welcome. “ Her face beamed at the praise and she ran into the house, letting the door slam behind her. 

 

“I’m so sorry about that,” Laura said once the girl was out of range. “She’s going through a phase; last week she tried to die Lucky’s fur neon pink.” 

 

“No problem.  I had sisters growing up and used to babysit for the neighbors, so I knew what I was getting into.” He didn’t say that kids weren’t scared of him, didn’t shy away when they saw his  arm. They simply accepted him as he was. 

 

“Well, you probably want to take those out before dinner.  There’s a mirror in the hall bathroom.” 

 

“Tell Lila not to worry. I’ve got plenty of pics.” Sam waved his phone at Bucky. “Already sent a mass text to everyone, one to my sister for her salon wall of fame, Instagram, Facebook, Twitter ..”

 

“I hate you,” Bucky told him; Sam only laughed. 

 

“Yeah, dude, I know.” 

 

The braids stuck out at all angles, brightly colored clips at their ends.  He chuckled when he saw himself. “You’ve got a creative kid,” he told Laura. “She may start a fashion trend.” 

 

As he took them out one-by-one, Laura paused in the doorway.  “You know, you look happier now. I glad Sam got over his crush on Steve; you and he are a much better match.” 

 

“Me and ...No. We’re not. Not at all.” He tripped over the words, getting them out so fast. The idea was ludicrous. Sam was a thorn in his side, an insufferable ass. “We’re … no. Just no.”

 

“Ah.” Laura’s eyebrow arched up and she gave him the same look Natasha did when he protested that he was perfectly fine. The one that said she knew so much better than Bucky did. “I see.” 

 

“Yeah, no, I don’t …” 

 

“Mom!” Cooper ran down the hallway, yelling loudly. “Dad said dinner’s ready!” 

 

“I’m right here, Coop. No need to shout,” she told her son. “Go round up everyone else and we’ll get started.” She turned back to Bucky. “Come eat and watch the fireworks.  Clint brought them from Hong Kong and Tony’s done something to make them special. Enjoy the evening.” 

 

She left him there, hair a mass of waves and brain running in circles. 

 

Sam? 

 

Did he …?

 

Damn it, Bucky was no good at this sort of shit.

 

* * *

 

 

“Move your tight ass, Frosty, I don’t got all …” 

 

Sam’s voice cut off abruptly as a bolt of red slammed into him, sending him spinning through the air. Half of one wing ripped off, and Sam dropped towards high rise hotels in the Dubai Marina; he thrashed his arms, trying to right himself, but a second bolt caught him and he began to fall. 

 

“Wilson!” Stark’s voice shouted over the coms. “Friday, what’s his status?” 

 

Wind whipped through Bucky’s hair; somewhere from the north came the roar of the Abomination, turned loose by one General Thaddeus Ross, a fucking bad guy after all.  The Hulk answered in kind and the top of a skyscraper wobbled. Voices poured through the ear bud; Bucky ignored it all, taking the stairs to the helicopter landing pad three at a time. 

 

“Mr. Wilson is unconscious, sir, and his pulse is erratic.”

 

Body spinning, Sam was plummeting, picking up speed as his body folded in on itself. 

 

“Blood pressure is dropping.” 

 

Sprinting, Bucky ran for the edge of the platform. 

 

“Thor, can you …” Steve interjected.

 

He jumped onto the concrete decorative outcropping and kept going. 

 

“I am on my way,” Thor replied, “but I do not believe I can …”

 

Planting his feet on the end, Bucky jumped, spreading his arms until he was in freefall then tucked them tightly to his side, pointing his head downward and picking up speed. 

 

“I’m reading a spike in …” 

 

The A.I.’s words were lost in the rush of wind past Bucky’s ears. Using his elbows to make minute changes in his direction, he arrowed in on Sam. There wasn’t time for calculations; he had to change Sam’s trajectory and hope to going down in the Marina’s waters rather than on the street. 

 

“Fucking hell, Barnes!” Barton shouted. 

 

Too fast, Sam was going too fast. There’d be only one shot, assuming Bucky got close enough and they didn’t miss by inches. 

 

“... a counter blast or something …” Stark was saying. 

 

He reached out his metal hand, and he wished he had magnetic fingers seconds before he caught the edge of Sam’s wing, tightening his grip. Splaying his legs and other arm, he swung them around, changing the arc of their descent and sending them towards the blue waterway that wound between the towers. He rolled, put himself on bottom, and got a good hold around Sam’s waist. 

 

“... too fast, surface tension will …” 

 

Fumbling, he found the controls, fired the thrusters, and tried to level them off so they came in at a glide rather than a sharp angle. 

 

“...there yet, Stark?”

 

Bucky braced himself. 

 

“... elevated levels of …”

 

Pain flared across his back as he hit the surface; it knocked the air out of his lungs and water poured in as he tried to breathe. Then he was rising up, coughing, wet skin drying as he was flown towards the shore.

 

“I have you. Hold on,” Thor said.  

 

* * *

 

 

“You look like you jumped off a building,” Sam mumbled. He blinked a few times before he focused his eyes on Bucky. 

 

“And you look like you took a laser blast to the chest.” Bucky eased up out of the chair to stand by Sam’s hospital bed. “Almost had chocolatino splattered all over the marina.”

 

“Feels like it too.” He tried to move. “Fuck, that hurts.” 

 

“Then don’t do it.” Bucky raised the head of the bed. 

 

“You’re not funny,” Sam said. “Tell me you at least have a bruise.” 

 

“Got a hangnail if that helps you feel better,” he replied. 

 

“What happened to the others? Ross? That big ugly dinosaur lizard guy?” 

 

“Ross and the Abomination got away and the Hulk chased after them.” Things had gone to hell in a handbasket; in a way, Bucky was glad to be here instead of dealing with politicians and military people. “Stark’s pissed because the gun that took you down was one of his designs; Ross has been into his files. Natasha’s doing damage control and spin.” 

 

“Bruce was right; Ross never really changed.” Sam coughed; Bucky put some ice chips into a cup and tipped a few past his lips. 

 

“Considering what I found in that lab, yeah, Banner’s got his number.” 

 

For a  moment, Sam sucked on the ice and closed his eyes. Bucky thought he’d drifted off when he spoke again. 

 

“Hey,” Sam mumbled. He turned his palm up and reached out. “Vanilla Ice.” 

 

Bucky slid his fingers across Sam’s, linking their hands together. “Yeah?’ 

 

“Can you put the bed back down?” 

 

“No,” he answered, even as he hit the button. 

 

He stayed there even after Sam’s breathing evened out and his heart rate settled into a steady rhythm, standing silent guard over the bedside. 

 

“He wake up?” Steve asked from the doorway. 

 

Bucky nodded. “Asked about everyone then went back to sleep.” 

 

Steve’s eyes dropped to where their hands were joined; looking down, Bucky saw interlaced fingers, white and brown mingled together. When he raised his eyes, Steve smiled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. 

 

“About time,” Steve said. “I was about to give up hope. Thought I was going to have to lock you two in a closet.” 

 

“Sometimes I really hate you, Rogers.” Bucky smiled in return. 

 

“Me too,” Sam agreed, eyes opening. “Now, unlike a couple of super soldiers, I need rest and time to heal.” 

 

“Such a whiner,” Bucky told him. 

 

“Fuck you, Barnes.” Sam’s eyelids drifted closed again. 

 

“You too, Wilson.” He squeezed Sam’s hand and let him go back to sleep.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, the B.A.R.F. thing is what Tony was showing off at M.I.T. I fully believe that General Ross is going to turn out to be a bad guy later, so I added that. Ulysses Klaue was in AOU and has a long rich history in the 616 Comics Universe. He did actually jump into the sonic disrupter in one story arc. Obviously, I stole some of the banter from Mackie and Seb's interviews for CACW including their names for each other "chocolatino" and "vanilla ice." Couldn't work "sexy seabass" in anywhere that made sense. :)


End file.
